Страница 40 из 55
When Doctor Syn had gone, he drank more and worked harder. As the darkness deepened and the red in the west
faded into black, he vowed that he’d work on in the gloom till the moon rose over the sea to give him light. As the
Marsh turned black beneath him he quite welcomed the scattered little lights that began to twinkle up at him from
distant farms and cottages. Ship’s lanterns, too, moved slowly out on the dis tant fairway of the Cha
He felt angry with himself for being capable of feeling lonely. He longed to see even the scowling faces eyeing
him under the lights of the ‘Walnut Tree’ snug parlour. So he drank more till he glowed inwardly into a savage
rage. Then his inflamed brain played tricks with him. It was not the sheep, for they were huddled together at the
foot of the Knoll. Once he imagined that he saw horsemen below him on the level whose faces shone pale as they
galloped. Cursing himself for a fool, he faced the whiteness of the chalk: drank deeper and worked on, his legs
frequently giving under him as he swung his pick with greater effort. The moon would soon be up, he told himself.
Meanwhile, at the Vicarage of Dymchurch, Doctor Syn expressed mild surprise when his guest, Captain Blain,
refused to linger over the port. His Bos’n was awaiting him, and he must go at once, he explained.
“Is it that you have heard rumours of a ‘run’, Captain?” asked the Parson anxiously.
“No, Doctor Syn,” replied the Captain. “But I am taking no chance of losing a sight of the Scarecrow, and since
he is so hot against this removal of the Knoll he may take steps in the matter. I think he may be attracted to the spot.
The moon will rise. I shall hide and through my spyglass get a view of him perhaps.”
The moment he had gone, Syn summoned Mipps from the kitchen.
“Just as I guessed,” he whispered. “The Captain has gone with the Bos’n, and I can play my prank on him and
punish this interfering Knarler at the same time. Is all ready?”
Mipps held out his left hand, began counting off items, “Strong rope attached to a sea-saving belt. Four lengths
of thin cord. Two for arms. Two for legs. And we both knows the naval semaphore code. We’ve only to go.
Jimmie Bone is waiting for us with the horses and things, and the other lads at Aldington.”
When the moon rose Captain Blain saw a strange sight upon the Knoll. Against the whiteness of the new-cut
chalk stood out the black figure of the Scarecrow.
“Look,” he whispered to the Bos’n. “He’s doing it again. It says”—slowly he spelt out the sentence—“THE
SCARECROW FORBIDS FURTHER DESTRUCTION TO THIS KNOLL. And look at him now. If he ain’t adoing it with his legs. Look, he’s dancing it out, sir. Same message. He’ll be doing a hornpipe next.”
“Come on, Bos’n,” whispered the Captain. “We’ll be taking a closer view.”
Had the Captain been on the top of the Knoll, he might have heard whispered orders of: “Right, Right. Now
again. Same order.” But when he stood peering over a ledge and looking up at the Scarecrow he heard nothing.
The Scarecrow, hideously masked, was standing against the white cliff and seemingly looking out to sea. The
Captain then acted on the instinct that he might never have such another chance again. He drew his pistol and fired.
There was a gurgling choke, and then four cords slid down across the face of the chalk and the ends trailed on the
grass.
Come on, Bos’n. He’s not standing on a ledge. He’s hanging by a rope. Yes, from above. They’d let him
down, and look, there’s cords to his wrists and ankles. Up aloft we go.”
When they reached the top they saw that the rope was fastened round the beacon post. There was no sign of
anyone about, though the sound of galloping horses came up from the road beneath.
“We must have a look, Bos’n,” said the Captain. “Lower him down, eh?”
they lowered the heavy weight to the ledge below, and then examined the features under the mask.
“I killed him. He’s dead all right. Still warm. Is it the Scarecrow?”
The Bos’n shook his head at the Captain’s query.
“No, sir. I’ve seen this cove. You ain’t. It’s Fi
Doctor Syn had just time to get into bed and blow out his candle before he heard the Captain return with the
Bos’n. He heard him unlock the door below and tell Bos’n to wait. He then crept up the stairs and knocked on the
Vicar’s door.
As he told Doctor Syn the next day, it was the first time he had ever sought out a priest for confession. When he
had told the whole story, he put his case before the Vicar in this way. “No one but the Bos’n knows of this. Even
the Scarecrow’s men who were obviously using this unfortunate scoundrel for their jest, and pulling his limbs this
way and that in signals, will be wondering who fired the shot. Now if I confess, it will mean me being called for an
Admiralty enquiry. I may be dismissed the service for rashness, though I think not, but I am sure to be taken from
here, and, Doctor Syn, I want nothing to prevent me from catching this Scarecrow eventually. Can I in honour keep
silent? I ask you as a wise man.”
“My good Captain,” replied Syn, “if we three keep silent the blame will fall on someone unknown who wished to
prevent Farmer Fi
shoulders seem broad enough to bear another murder. Say nothing about it. Captain blain, if you leave us, we shall
never catch the Scarecrow. Let us say no more, but make a compact that come what may we will work together to
rid my beloved Marsh from this evil that rides by night.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” replied the Captain fervently. “Yo u have given me a great relief. In return I will give you
my full confidence. Perhaps I have kept you too much in the dark up to now, in spite of all your kindness. But this
helpful act of yours makes me not only an obligated friend, but a sworn ally.”
“Against the Scarecrow,” completed the Vicar, nodding his tasselled night-cap. “Oh, Captain, do you think we
shall ever unmask him? Do, do let us try.”
Syn and Mipps chuckled next day when Fi
advice.
They chuckled more when they realized how well the plan had succeeded, for where Knarler had digged the
chalk became in sunlight of moonlight a pilot light across the fairway of the Cha
12
MYSTERIOUS COOPERAGE
After the death of Knarler, Doctor Syn expected his guest to keep his promise in giving him full confidence.
Captain Blain had purchased the Vicar’s silence in regard to the matter of manslaughter, with an obligation to
become his sworn ally against the Scarecrow, and yet as the days went by he kept his own consul and was more
reserved with the Vicar than he had been before.
He seemed purposely to avoid speaking of the Scarecrow, and the closer he became, the more openly did the
Vicar try to discuss. Indeed, Doctor Syn railed more than ever against the smuggling.
On the Sunday following Knarler’s death, he preached twice against the ways of wicked men, who for the sake of
gain, did not scruple to use the dreadful violence of sudden death. There had, he said, been too many tragedies upon
their beloved Marsh, because certain men upon her had feared to disobey the orders of the arch fiend in their midst,
and he urged all good Marshmen to support Captain Blain and his gallant followers, in their endeavour to stamp out
the wickedness. At the conclusion of both sermons, he called his congregation to their knees, while he extemporized
a prayer that the Captain’s efforts would be blessed with success.